


Hereafter

by Scarlet_Trust



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Reading, Other, Police Brutality, Police Droids, Season 3, date fic, martian pill, that turned into, with season 1 throwbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27430666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Trust/pseuds/Scarlet_Trust
Summary: All Nureyev wanted was a nice dinner out with his detective.Was that too much to ask?
Relationships: Buddy Aurinko & Peter Nureyev, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, Rita & Juno Steel
Comments: 58
Kudos: 161





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Don't know why but lately I've been thinking a lot about season 1! I would love to see some of that good good ancient martian plot line come back in the new episodes. Anyway! Ended up trying to write a quick whump one shot, but it quickly got out of hand. IDK, I guess the universe wanted me to write a cute date fic (with a mandatory dash of hurt comfort.) who am I to argue!

Juno had never been great at downtime. 

Don’t get a Lady wrong. He was far better than he used to be. Back when downtime was the dull, sinking void between cases on Hyperion. Waking up with a raging headache, and a mouth that tasted like regret and martian rye. 

Life on the Carte Blanche was different. Juno was different. And that was a good thing. easier on the liver at least. 

And that was what Juno was telling himself. Repeatedly. Trapped with Rita in the suddenly tiny feeling kitchen on the Carte Blanche, trying to figure out how to convert the slim pickings of their pantry into Muffins. A task, that if you asked Juno, they were failing at. At least they were the only ones on the ship. Juno didn't fancy trying to explain why the kitchen looked like a culinary war zone. 

Bowls and ingredients were strewn across every square inch of the counters. A bag of flour lay toppled on the floor- most of its contents hastily swept up into a pile in the corner. Juno was half a step away from throwing up his hands in the air in defeat. 

“is there any reason why this can’t wait until tomorrow?” He demanded, pulling off the lid of a container of berries he had found in the back of the fridge. Or at least they used to be berries. Probably. He grimaced and tossed it straight into the garbage. “You know after Jet gets back from the supply run?”

They were currently moored in Triton’s spaceport, which hovered in the moon’s stratosphere. Buddy and Vespa had left almost as soon as they had landed to try and fence the takes from the last mission. That had been two days ago. But they had left with heavy overnight bags. And Vespa had reassured them, with an expression that promised murder, that nobody needed to worry about their whereabouts for a few days. Juno had decided that he didn’t need to know more.

Jet had left soon after, armed with a massive list to restock their dwindling supplies. It had been a long time since they had actually stayed in one place long enough to be able to take care of such things. And it wasn’t difficult to tell that the big guy was happy for the excuse to stretch his legs.

In theory, Nureyev was still on board, somewhere. But Juno hadn’t actually seen him since breakfast. Which was impressive, given the size of the ship. Juno wasn’t worried. It's not like he kept tabs on the guy. But it meant that Juno was at the complete mercy of Rita’s attention.

“I won’t need them tomorrow! “ Rita said from her perch on the counter, short legs swinging back and forth. “Besides the stream said this recipe is full proof!”

“Full proof huh,” Juno said. “Sure, whatever. What’s next.” 

“Well,” Rita squinted down at the Coms in her hand, “Says here we need 2 eggs.” 

“2 eggs?” Juno parroted. 

“That’s what it says.” 

Juno pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eye. “Rita, we don’t have any eggs.” 

“What do you mean we don’t have any eggs?!” 

“I mean we don’t have any eggs!” Juno’s voice rose as Rita’s grew shrill. 

“I told you that when we started. You said it wasn’t a problem.”

“Of course it's a problem!” Rita cried. She jumped off the counter and scurried to the fridge “Mistah Steel! What are we going to do!?” 

“Not make muffins?” Juno asked, duking as the remains of a sim-steak was thrown at his head. It hit the wall behind him with a splat. “Why is this so important?”

“Because!” Rita exclaimed as apples rolled across the floor. “It's for tonights’ episode of A.R.K Falling! You gotta make the same muffins that the Viscountess Nymira used to poison Duke Moon on the show. Then you send in a photo to win a fabulous prize.” 

“Which is?” 

“Which is what?” 

“What’s the damn prize.” 

“I dunno. I’m sure it's amazing. And beautiful. And elegant.” Rita said, words going distant like they always did when she was talking about her latest crush. “Just like the Viscountess”

“Wait, “ Juno could feel his patience crumbling at the seams. “ you don’t even know what the prize is?”

“That would take all the fun out of it,” Rita said. “It's a mystery.” 

“you realize how insane this sounds, right?” 

“Only cause you’ve never watched it.” Rita chastised. “Despite the fact I’ve told you a thousand-and-one times that you gotta.” 

“I saw the first 2 episodes!”

It wasn’t that he always ignored Rita’s stream recommendations. He watched most of them, she had a good eye for picking out things he’d like. But… “I got distracted, okay?” 

“Uh-huh. Was Mistah Ransom with you by chance?” Juno could feel his cheeks burn. “That’s none of your business.” He snapped. 

“Whatever you say, Boss,” Rita said with an exaggerated wink. She was carrying what looked to be the entire contents of the fridge. She dumped it in an unceremonious heap in the middle of the table. 

“Come on, there’s gotta be something in here we can use.” 

“Not your Boss,” Juno said as he began to sort through the random collection of food in front of him. There was no hope that these muffins would turn anything less than a hot mess. Juno was a pretty good cook, but he wasn’t a baker. They both knew it. 

He had to admit, even this disaster was s was better than sitting in his room getting stuck in his own head. Maybe that was why Rita had asked for his help in the first place. A flash of purple caught his eye. Juno pulled a misshapen banana from the mess. 

“If we mash these up, they might work instead of eggs?” Juno said, holding up the sad looking purple fruit. “I think I read that somewhere.” 

“Mistah Steel! You’re a genius!” Juno grunted, the air leaving his lungs with a whoosh as he was tackled by his former secretary. “Yah Yah” He tried to wheeze as she tightened her vice-like grip around his ribs. How could someone so tiny be so strong? “I wouldn’t go that far- no promises this actually going to work.” 

“Of course it will!” Rita crowed. She grabbed a mixing bowl, lifting it high above her head in triumph, “or my name isn’t Rita! Well, it is most of the time. Unless we’re on a mission. Then it's something even cooler.” 

“Focus” Juno grabbed the bowl and started to peel the fruit. “What else do we need to do.” 

“Welllll...” Rita grabbed her comm “let me check Rita’s Super-Amazing, A.R.K Falling award-winning Muffin Recipe.” 

“Without the poison, I hope.” 

Juno whirled around as the unexpected voice came up from his blind side. He nearly dropped the bowl, reaching down the blaster strapped to his thigh.

Before he could a hand wrapped around his own, steading the bowl as Nureyev stepped into his line of sight. Juno let out a long breath, biting down on the barked response at the tip of his tongue. It was his own damn fault for not keeping the entryway on his good side. 

“Hey, Handsome,” he said instead, focusing on the cool metal of Nureyev’s rings as those long fingers curled around Juno’s own. “I was wondering where you ran off too.” 

“Sorry, Darling.” Peter pressed a kiss to Juno’s cheek, just below the line of his eyepatch. Juno knew he was apologizing for more than the disappearing act. “I had a few errands to run on Triton.” 

“Errands, huh,” Juno said, letting Peter take the bowl from him. It took him a moment to find a clear space in the chaos to put it down on. “Do I even want to know?” 

“Nothing nefarious, I assure you.” It would have been more comforting if Nureyev had managed to say it without that damn foxes grin- all sharp teeth and bright eyes. It was the kind of grin that promised trouble. Juno shouldn’t have found it as attractive as he did. “Though it looks like I missed out on quite the adventure.” 

“We’re making muffins for tonight’s stream.” Rita chirped.”You caught up yet?” 

“Still a few episodes behind, I'm afraid,” Nureyev admitted. “But the chat rooms are quite a buzz about the season finale. Couldn’t quite resist the temptation to avoid spoilers” 

“Mistah Ransom! You’re going to ruin it for yourself!”

“Hold up,” Juno said as the conversation happening over his head finally clicked into place. “You actually watched the damn show?” 

“Of course.” Peter shrugged elegantly. “Disgraced nobility turned dashing renegade. The lawman love interest torn between duty and her own heart. Quite riveting.” 

“That’s what I was telling Mistah Steel,” Rita said, nodding along. “But he never listens.” 

“We were going to watch it together!”Juno protested.

“Yes, my dear. But we always tend to get… distracted.” Peter said, the final blow of his judas kiss. 

Rita’s answering howl of laughter could be heard across the spaceport. 

“I hate both of you,” Juno grumbled as Rita doubled over, clutching her ribs in mirth. Her horn-rimmed glasses slipped off her nose and clattered to the floor. “I hope you know that.” 

If anything, that made her laugh harder. It was a while before Rita managed to calm down. She hiccuped a few times, whipping aways tears of sheer mirth as she picked her pink glasses up off the tile. 

As they settled on her nose, she turned to Nureyev, “Did you get those snazzy looking clothes on Triton?” She asked. “Cause I gotta say, you’re looking sharp.”

Nureyev blinked, looking down at his outfit as if he hadn’t been expecting the compliment. Which instantly caught Juno’s attention. Peter always knew what he looked like. More to the point, he always knew exactly how good he looked. 

And Nureyev did look good. Long shirt in airy lilac, over top of black pants so fitted they looked painted on. The shirt was cinched at the waist by a broad strip of synth leather, the same material of his black flats. Rita was right, Juno didn’t recognize the clothes either. He was positive he hadn’t seen them hanging in their closet.

But it wasn’t the idea of Nureyev buying new clothes that caught Juno’s attention. Hell, he’d be more surprised if the man hadn’t come back with shopping bags in tow. There was something else; something that Juno couldn’t quite put his finger on. But it was achingly familiar. 

The shirt wasn’t the sleek designer cuts that Rex Glass seemed to favour, nor the over-the-top extravagance that was Duke Rose. And it certainly didn’t fit the sharp angles and bold tones that Ransom wore like armour. This was softer. Not casual per se, far too expensive looking for that. But more natural; honest in a way that Juno had only seen behind locked doors. 

He looked like Peter Nureyev.

Juno’s thoughts must have been showing on his face. When he finally caught Peter’s gaze, the tops of the thief’s cheeks were a faint red. The kind of blush that most makeup companies would kill to replicate. And ya. Juno was rather gone, wasn’t he? Who would have thought?

“Thank you, My Dear,” Peter said, as the moment finally broke. His normal, effortless confidence slipped back into place like a favourite jacket. He ran his fingers over the silky material of his shirt, adjusting how it draped beneath the wide belt. “The fabrics they make here are like nothing else. Remind me, and we’ll go shopping tomorrow.” 

“Oh!” Rita exclaimed. “Wouldn’t that be amazing? With how much traveling we do, I rarely get to go shopping. Frannie was saying last week, I gotta buy more things. But we never get the time… and” 

“It's a date then,” Peter confirmed with a wink, all the while navigating past Rita’s potential rant. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to steal our dear detective from you for a moment.”

“huh?” Juno blurted out intelligently, not quite prepared for this turn in the conversation. But that was okay because nobody seemed all that interested in his opinion on the matter anyway. The next thing he knew, Peter had grabbed his wrist and was dragging him out into the hall. 

The kitchen door, which almost always left open, slid closed with a mechanical hiss. Peter let go of his wrist, but remained silent, staring at the space just beyond Juno’s left ear. Juno slid his hands into his pockets, leaning back against the metal wall. “You do, you know.” He said, eventually. “Look nice? I like colour on you.” 

“I thought you might,” Nureyev said with a small smile. “I noticed you seemed to like it.”

And the thought that Nureyev had bought a shirt because he thought Juno would like it? Wasn’t that enough to make heat curl through his stomach to the tips of Juno’s toes? But it also made his curiosity skyrocket. 

“what’s the occasion?” Okay. Wow. Juno winced at how blunt that sounded, more accusation than inquiry. A long way from his actual intention. 

But Nureyev didn’t seem to take offence to Juno’s blundering attempts at conversation. He even chuckled, which should have been a win. But it was a distracted sound at best. 

“Everything okay in there?” Juno asked. Nureyev worried at one of the silver ringers on his fingers. 

“I want to go out tonight.” It sounded stilted, like something rehearsed in front of a mirror. “Just you and me. Down to the moon. It's quite lovely. I want to take you.” 

“What? Like a date?” 

“Yes, Love.” Nureyev sounded more confident now. He smiled, so easy and flirtatious that Juno’s memory flashed to visions of dark sunglasses and safe keys. “Dinner. A walk through the park maybe. Surely not a revolutionary notion.” 

“I understand the concept, thanks." 

It was then that Juno realized how nervous Nureyev was. Recognized it because he could feel it bubbling in his own stomach. Like he was 20 years old again and Diamond kept dropping off flowers at the police academy, trying to get a date.

But this was even more intense. This thing between them still felt fragile. So delicate that Juno was afraid to even define it, and awkward in a way it hadn’t been before. His apology hung between them, stitches on a wound that only just begun to heal on its own.

And what Nureyev was preposing? This was uncharted territory. They’d never actually dated. Not in the traditional sense. It's not like they’d ever had the chance. Between the Kanagawas, the train, Miasma, and... everything that came after, Nureyev’s spent far more time as the one-who-got-away than boyfriend. 

Even after, Juno was ashamed to admit that the thought had never crossed his mind. And for the life of him, Juno couldn’t think of a single reason why it hadn’t. The thought hit him like a faceful of freezing water. Why hadn’t he? 

“Well?” The prompt jolted Juno out of his spiraling train of thought. He realized that Nureyev was probably wanting an answer. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to eat something that isn't simulated or cloned. Not that you and Jet haven’t done wonders with what’s available. But the flavour always leaves something to be desired.” 

Nureyev was rambling now. Which was funny. Because Juno seemed to have forgotten how words worked at all. 

“Yes. I mean yeah. I’d like that.” Juno finally managed to stammer out. “I really would.” 

“Excellent.” 

And just like that his flirtatious smirk eased into something soft, and genuine as it crinkled corners of those impossibly bright eyes. Juno closed the gap between them before he even had the chance to think about it, wrapping his arms around Nureyev’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. Nureyev responded eagerly as he always did. But there was something almost desperate to his movements as he slipped a hand under Juno’s shirt to rest against his back. The way he nipped at Juno’s bottom lip.

Juno let out a gasp as he let Nureyev walk them backward until he was pressed up against the wall. The kiss deepened, each second stretching out into a century. Juno reached up, curling in his fingers through Nureyev’s soft hair. Every touch felt electric as the kiss rapidly divulged into something less than appropriate for the hallway. 

There was a resounding crash. 

They jumped apart at the sound, only for it to be followed by a smaller, but no less impressive series of bangs. All echoing from the kitchen. They both winced.

“That…. Did not sound good.” Nureyev said charitably. Juno sighed, dropping his forehead to Nureyev’s chest. He squeezed his eye shut, blocking out the sight of the kitchen door, already dreading his next move. 

“I promised I’d help Rita with those damn muffins.” “That you did.” Nureyev chuckled. “Although, I fear not even a professional could save you now.” 

Juno groaned. 

The kitchen door slid open halfway, a feat that Juno hadn’t realized they were capable of. He got a momentary glimpse of what he could only describe as a bomb site before Rita’s face poked through the opening. 

“Don’t you worry about that Boss! Ol’Rita’s got this handled!” 

Judging from the lurid purple batter dripping from her curls, and the acrid smell emanating from the enclosed space- Ol’Rita in no way had anything handled. But as Juno’s already minimal interest in muffin making waned, he was not about to waste a chance at a clean getaway. Although there was the question of Rita’s sudden change of heart. 

“Were you listening?” 

“Of course not!” Rita protested. “What kind of Lady do you take me for? But if you were going out that dark green sweater of yours would look real nice.” 

And then she was gone. the metal door slid back into place, hiding the disaster contained within. But this time, Juno was certain he heard the click of a lock sliding into place. 

“I didn’t think that door had a lock.” Nureyev mused, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, well. It probably didn’t until just now.” “

But, how?” 

“It's Rita” Juno laughed. “ Don’t think about it too hard. It's what I do.” 

Nureyev only sighed the sound somewhere between affectionate and long-suffering. A not uncommon combination where Rita was involved. 

“I suppose I should be grateful.” He said finally. “This means you're free for the rest of the evening.” 

“I’m all yours,” Juno grinned. Until he remembered what else Rita had said. He looked down at his knotted tie-dye shirt and flour-covered skirt. Not exactly the ideal date outfit. He winced. “But I’ll need a few minutes.” 

“Fair enough,” Nureyev said as Juno detangled himself the embrace. But Nureyev didn’t let him get far. He ran gentle fingers along the side of Juno’s face, tilting his chin high enough for a passing kiss. A promise of things to come. “Change. I’ll meet you outside.


	2. Chapter 2

“How did I let you talk me into this?”

The shuttle ride from the spaceport down to Triton’s capital city, Attina, was blessedly short. That, in Juno’s less than quiet opinion, was the only damn thing it had going for it. As it was, he had spent the entire trip leaning as far back from Nureyev’s window as the seat restraints would allow. He had clutched at the armrests for dear life as the small craft threatened to shake apart at the seams.

“The shuttles have a flawless safety record.” Nureyev had pointed out as he led them off the shuttle platform and into the bustling station. His hand was a warm, steady weight on the square of Juno’s back. 

Juno appreciated the contact. Even back on solid ground the world felt like it was spinning, Nausea doing backflips in his throat. “They’re quite safe. Regardless of what your Vertigo might have to say on the matter.”

“Sounds fake,” Juno grumbled. Not that Nureyev could hear him over the din of echoing voices and thundering footsteps. The station was packed, people hurrying in every direction. They had to push their way to the door, dodging elbows the entire way. It reminded Juno of Hyperion. The frenzied energy of hundreds of people all focused on only one thing: getting to their destinations as quickly as possible.

The moment he and Nureyev stepped out the doors and into the main square, however, Juno realized that was the only thing Hyperion and Attina had in common.

“Damn.” Juno whistled as he took in the wide cobblestone streets and vibrant buildings. Each one was painted a different colour; a harmonious blend of pastels that managed to project warmth despite the storm heavy clouds above

“Isn’t it lovely?” Nureyev asked from behind him, squeezing Juno’s shoulders. 

“It’s something, alright.” 

The streets were lined with overflowing flower boxes, and manicured trees. Strings upon strings of lights had been woven through the branches. They twinkled merrily. 

The effect was pretty, but a bit much, Juno decided as a dull ache pulsed behind his eyes. The headache had been brewing since they landed. And the bright lights weren’t helping matters. 

“Guess I should thank you for dragging me off the ship. “ Juno said, looking away from the trees. The pressure eased. Not disappearing, but turning into something ignorable. Which was good enough.

“We both knew I would have convinced you eventually.” Nureyev teased. He paused, peering down at Juno’s face. “Are you feeling okay? You’re still looking a bit peaky.”

“Gee thanks, Babe,” Juno said. “Way to make a Lady feel special.”

“Oh, hush. You know what I meant. “ Nureyev’s hand was warm and gentle on Juno’s forehead, sliding down to cup his cheek. “You’re not still feeling dizzy are you?”

“I’m fine,” Juno said, waving him off. He hadn’t realized it was that obvious. But Nureyev had always been observant “It’s just a bit of a headache.”

Nureyev hummed thoughtfully. “It’s probably the shift in pressure between here and the spaceport.” He deduced. “I’ve definitely had my share of those.”

“Probably.” Juno rolled his neck, trying to shift the tension there. It helped a bit. “Seriously. It’s no big. I’m just looking forward to dinner.”

‘I confess, I am as well.” Nureyev smiled. The large back umbrella he was carrying tapped against the cobblestones as they walked, like an obnoxious cane. It seemed to be a common accessory here. But Juno was certain the sticky-fingered thief hadn’t been carrying one when they’d left the Carte Blanche. “I hope you enjoy the restaurant. It’s quite charming.”

“You’ve been here before,” Juno said, looping their arms together as they walked.

“A few times,” Nureyev replied, looking fondly at the large gurgling fountain in the centre of the square. “It was one of the first places I wanted to take you.”

Juno winced as guilt curdled in his stomach. The same way it always did whenever he thought about what had happened in that hotel room. About the plans Nureyev had made before Juno crept out the door like a coward. But the feeling was softer, less intense. As if tempered by the wistful look on Nureyev’s face. 

“Must have been pretty special.” Juno said, struggling to speak around the lump that had formed in his throat. “to warrant a second trip.”

“Some things are.” Nureyev smiled, the twinkling lights reflecting off his glasses. “Attina’s a lovely place, especially if you need to lie low. But it’s truly terrible if you want to try and run a job.”

“Really?” Juno asked. “Come off it, all I can see is jewelry stores and art galleries. Easy pickings.”

“Precisely. And They have nothing to fear,.” Even though there was no one within earshot of them, Nureyev’s voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. “Attina has developed quite the system for crime deterrence.

Juno stopped, looking at Nureyev incredulously. “Now I’m curious.”

Nureyev tilted his head towards one of the many trees surrounding them. Juno frowned, not entirely certain what he was supposed to be looking for. He squinted, and finally caught a glimpse of it. A slim, metallic hexagon was perched on the bark with spidery mechanical limbs. In its centre was a camera, a small red light flashing beside it. 

There was one on every tree they had passed so far.

“CCTV?” 

Nureyev shook his head. “Memory Surveillance Droid.” He corrected, keeping a solid distance away from the tree. “Remarkable technology- it’s capable of scanning the recent surface memories of an individual. Useful for figuring out whether someone committed a crime ”

“Neat trick.” Juno said, equal measures disturbed and impressed. If they had these things on mars, the PI Registry would close its doors in a week. “Doesn’t exactly seem legal.”

“The Triton Senate seems to think they are. “ Nureyev pointed out. “Although, the rest of the Neptunian Federation was…. Less receptive. Seemed to consider the droids to be an invasion of citizen rights.”

Juno snorted. “Can’t imagine why.” 

“Ethics aside. You can imagine how it would make a thief’s life difficult. Most professionals avoid this moon like the plague“ Nureyev continued. “Organized crime disappeared almost overnight. “

“Huh.” The camera lens shuddered, focusing on Juno as he stepped closer. It made no other movement, however. 

The Droid was probably dormant until a crime was reported, Juno mused. He dug into his pocket for his Comm. Rita kill him if he didn’t at least try and get a photo. 

He lined up the shot. As soon as he did, the dull ache in his head exploded; white-hot fire. Juno gasped, almost dropping his comm. His knees shook, threatening to buckle underneath him.

And then it was gone. 

The knife in his skull faded back into the vague pressure from before. The whole thing was over so quickly, that for a moment Juno wasn’t sure it had happened at all. 

He pressed his fingers to the side of his head, rubbing small circles. The pain wasn’t totally gone, but it was back to being tolerable. He’d had worst after a night of drinking. But it didn’t explain whatever the hell had just happened.

It must have been his comm, Juno decided. He racked a hand across his hair, and let out a slow breath. Bright lights always made headaches worst. Maybe if he was lucky, Nureyev would have some ibuprofen in one of those crazy pockets of his.

He snapped a few photos, taking care to avoid looking at the screen as much as possible. Hopefully one of them was clear enough that Rita could make out the details. 

Something trickled across Juno’s lip. He grimaced, staring accusingly up at the sky. As nice as Nureyev’s stolen umbrella looked, Juno wasn’t keen on the idea of walking in the rain. Or the idea of rain in general if he was being honest. He reached up to wipe away the offending raindrop. it felt warm. 

“What the hell.” Juno stared at the blood smeared across his knuckles. His stomach lurched. A headache was one thing. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a nose bleed. At least one that wasn’t caused by a fist to the face.

No, that wasn’t right. 

Juno’s heart sank. He could easily remember the last time this had happened. A lifetime and a Martian pill ago. But that wasn’t a problem anymore, hadn’t been for years. He had the eyepatch to prove it. 

Juno glanced over his shoulder. Nureyev was fiddling with the mechanism of the umbrella, not paying much attention to what Juno was up to. Which was good, because Juno didn’t want to think how he’d react to this development. Probably drag Juno back to the Carte Blanche without a second thought. 

One thing at time Steel, he told himself. He held up the comm, staring down at his face reflected in the blank screen. There was red smeared across his lip and onto his cheek. But the bleeding had already stopped. Juno huffed out a breath, relief rolling over him like a wave.

“Darling?”

“One sec!” Juno called back, making a show of taking one more photo of the droid on the tree. There was no point in telling Nureyev about this. He rubbed at his cheek, clearing away the evidence. It was just a little blood. Probably because of the change in pressure, just like Nureyev had said. No point in making him worry over nothing. 

Juno hurried back over to where Nureyev was waiting for him. The thief smiled at him, dark eyes shining. “Get Rita’ s evidence?”

“Mind reading droids,” Juno said, showing Nureyev one of the pictures. It was slightly out of focus, but if his boyfriend noticed, he didn’t comment. “She’s going to freak.”

“I don’t doubt that for a moment. “ Nureyev said, sounding oddly apprehensive. ‘Although, maybe it’s best if our darling hacker doesn’t find out about them.”

“What?” Juno asked incredulously. “Why?”

“The droids are quite the marvel, aren’t they?” Nureyev clarified, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I can only imagine that Ms. Rita would jump at the opportunity to replicate them.”

Juno grimaced, unable to shake the mental image of mind-reading robots scuttling around the Carte blanche. ‘She totally would, wouldn’t she.” He said with a shudder. “And probably try to improve them while she was at it.”

“Just a suggestion.” Nureyev trilled, holding out his arm once more. “Now,we really must hurry along Dear Detective. We have a reservation after all.”

\---  
Dinner was nice, in a way that Juno hadn’t expected.

Not that he’d been dreading it or anything. But when Nureyev had mentioned going out, Juno had immediately picture white table clothes and polished silverware. The kind of fancy places they visited on heists. 

But the restaurant Nureyev had picked was barely more than a hole in the wall, tucked in the space between two buildings. There were only a handful of tables. But it was completely packed. Voices mingling with the soft guitar piped through the speakers.

It was a pleasant surprise. Nureyev led the way with his normal overwhelming confidence. But his eyes kept flicking to Juno’s as if waiting for a comment on his choice. 

The air was heavy with the smells of cooking spices and caramelized onions. For a moment, Juno had felt like he was back in Oldtown, sitting in the kitchen of Sasha Wire’s family home. Her father was always cooking, sharing the recipes he’d brought with him from the Outer Rim. He was the one who taught Juno how to dice vegetables without losing a thumb, and the best way to flip pancakes.

It felt like home. 

In more ways than one, Juno realized, watching as Nureyev ordered with barely a second glance at the menu. One never forgot the food of their childhood.

They talked for hours, sitting in the back corner of the tiny restaurant. A bottle of wine sat between them. Time lost all meaning as Juno poured for them both. 

He had long since known that Nureyev couldn’t cook to save his life. But it was a surprise to discover that he loved his food spicy. Hot enough that an offered bite of his meal had left Juno gasping, frantically searching for a glass. 

Nureyev’s eyes crinkled when he laughs, Juno realized. A hand covering his mouth as if to prevent any undignified sounds from spilling over. It doesn’t work. 

They finished the bottle, and split dessert. Juno shared stories of growing up in Old Town; youthful misadventures with Benten, Mick, and Sasha. Bright spots in his memories, dusty with age but free of scars and loss Nureyev was a rapt audience, dark eyes shining brightly across the table. 

It was well and truly dark outside by the time the waiter returned to the table. The fact it was closing time catches them by surprise. 

This time they both started laughing.

\---  
The sky had finally made good on its promise of rain as they stepped back out into the chilly evening. Juno lifted his face, feeling the cold drops against his cheeks. It didn’t rain in Hyperion City. The dome was specifically designed to keep the Acid rain on the outside. 

But here, the sides of the dome were so high that it was easy to pretend they didn’t exist at all. High enough that clouds had a chance to form inside its protection. A luxurious inconvenience. 

There was a soft snick as Nureyev unfurled the umbrella. Juno stepped under the shelter. It was large enough to cover them both, with room to spare. But Nureyev stayed close enough that their arms brushed as they walked. 

‘Thank you for humouring me tonight.” He said.

‘I wouldn’t call it humouring.” Juno said, grabbing Nureyev’s hand. “Though I am curious as to what brought this on.”

Nureyev looked down at their hands, letting out a soft hum. “Our last heist was a busy one. I didn’t see much of you.” He eventually admitted, twining their fingers together. “Is it silly to say I missed you?”

“No, I missed you too.“ Juno said. “Buddy was running me ragged. I haven’t had to do that much recon work since Mars.”

“You’re good at it.”’

Juno ducked his head. Even now, he was unsure of what to do with the compliment.“ What did you think a PI did all day?”

‘“Regardless.” Nureyev lifted their joined hands, kissing the back of Juno’s hand. “I don’t have the patience to tail my marks like that. Even if I did, you had their schedule down to the last second. It was quite impressive.”

“Tell that to my back,” Juno said with a groan. He leaned back, and his spine let out an audible crack in protest. “I’m getting too old to sit in a car taking photos.”

“A Noble sacrifice.” Nureyev teased. His smile grew sharp, a sliver of sharp tooth peeking out from behind shimmering lip stain. “I’m glad Buddy found a way to utilize your skills. The heavens knows, it wasn’t acting.” 

“Hey!” Juno shoved at Nureyev’s shoulder in protest. It wasn’t even that hard of a push, but the noodle of a thief still stumbled, laughing the entire way. “See if you get a second date!”

“Oh, hush. You wouldn’t turn down a free meal.”

“You say that like you paid for dinner, Mr. White.”

“Details, my dear, details,” Nureyev said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It was my credit stick, was it not?”

“Just not your credits.”

“Like I said” Nureyev smirked. “details.”

It was supposed to be deadpan, the same dry humour that Peter Ransom had turned into an art form. But the corners of his lips were twitching, fighting a dopey grin. The one that never failed to make Juno’s stomach flip.

“Not quite how that works, Hon.” Juno said. He wondered, not for the first time, what he’d done to deserve this debonair idiot. Not Duke Rose or any of the rest of them. The actual Peter Nureyev; who snorted when he laughed and looked at Juno like he had hung the stars.

And yah, Juno didn’t deserve this man. But right now, standing in the middle of an alley in the pouring rain, Juno knew he’d do anything to keep him. And for the first time, that thought didn’t scare him.

Juno kissed him, curling his arms around Nureyev’s neck to pull him closer. It was cold, and kind of miserable. The umbrella shifted as Nureyev wrapped an arm around his waist. Icy cold water dripped down the back of Juno’s collar. 

It was perfect.

There was a snap behind them. The sound of a branch crunching beneath a boot. Juno jumped, looking up just in time to see a shadow dart from one side of the alley to the other. 

Nureyev stiffened against him. “What is it?” He hissed, so quietly that Juno could barely hear him, even though their faces were barely an inch apart. 

Juno didn’t respond, squinting into the dim. He waited for someone to walk past. A Lady walking her dog maybe. Or a couple leaving the bar. But no one did. Juno frowned. Whoever it was. They were moving too quickly to be someone out for a midnight stroll. 

“We’re being followed.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this update came out slightly later than intended. Is it possible to have writer's block after you've already written the thing? because let me tell you, editing this was like pulling teeth!
> 
> A quick warning before you start. When I was editing this, I realized that a section of this chapter touches on themes of police brutality. Tags have been updated, but I’m also going to leave a note here so nobody is taken by surprise. There is no physical contact or explicit threat of violence. Nonetheless, it does include a law enforcement figure (in this case a droid)) not reacting when its actions cause a character physical distress. 
> 
> If this isn’t something you want to read, I totally get it. Just skip from “Please remain still.” to “It exploded in a shower of sparks and metal”. A hopefully trigger free summary of what you missed in the end notes. <3

When Juno reached up and grabbed him for a kiss, Peter nearly dropped the umbrella. Not out of shock. A master thief was never shocked after all. But the intensity of it was certainly enough to catch him by surprise. In the way that only Juno Steel could manage.

Peter fumbled with the umbrella’s handle, trying to make sure it still covered them both. It becomes an impossible task when he feels the rough catch of Juno’s lip ring against his own lips. 

Not that Peter is complaining. 

But he can’t help but wonder what thought crossed his Goddess’ mind to inspire such boldness. Juno was rarely the one to take the lead between them after all. But even that last thread of thought fades away. Lost to the void as Juno’s clever tongue erases all higher brain function.

At least until Juno jumps against him. The weight of his arms unwound from Peter’s neck, slipping down to rest against his chest instead. Juno doesn’t make any move to step away, lifting up onto his toes to squint myopically over Peter’s shoulder.

“What is it?”

Juno, dignified as always, grunts in response. Something had his attention, like a hound with a scent. Peter could practically hear his brilliant mind whirring as his brow furrowed. 

“We’re being followed.”

Wasn’t that interesting. Peter peered out from the corner of his eye. Not that he could see much as raindrops clouded his glasses. But now that he was paying attention, he could hear footsteps. Two sets. The heavy clomp of boots and second pair. Lighter on their feet, but shuffling. Amateurs without a doubt. And circling.

Peter wrapped an arm around Juno’s waist. Holding him tight, even as he tapped his finger against Juno's side; Once and again. He feels Juno nod more than he sees it, tight curls tickling the underside of Peter's chin.

“Briar dearest,” Peter said, letting Juno go. “Do you have your comm? I'm worried I saw it on the table at the restaurant.”

He spoke in a normal volume, but in the quiet of the alley, it echoed like a shout. Oblivious tourists with nary a concern. 

Junos looks at him incredulously for a moment. But nonetheless makes a show of patting down his pockets. They both know his comm was safely tucked away in Juno’s purse. 

“shit.” He said, adapting to the plan Peter was making up on the fly. How far they had come since Duke and Dahlia. “You’re right, it’s on the bloody table. I have to go back.”

“Hopefully they haven’t locked up for the night,” Peter said, checking the time. “I’ll get the car and meet you?”

“I’ll be quick.” Juno said, kissing Peter’s cheek. “promise.”

Then he’s gone, disappearing back the way they came. Its pitch dark out, and storm clouds block Neptune’s blue glow. The lights from the main street could only do so much. It wasn’t long before Juno, in his fetching dark green sweater, was swollen by the darkness.

And only a moment longer before their mysterious stalkers made an appearance. Two men- one big and burly with shoulders like a stone wall, the other slim and shifty. It was comforting, in a way, to know that despite his increasing age, Peter hadn’t completely lost his touch. 

He eyed the men wearily. They advanced quickly, fanning out to surround Peter. The second man is smaller than his partner without a doubt. But he was by no means small. Almost as tall as Peter, and at least 50 pounds heavier. 

He had told Juno there was no organized crime on Attina. And that statement held true. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t crime. Even on Brahma, there had always been those desperate enough to try and make a quick cred.

No matter. 

They pushed in closer; muscle and intimidation the tactic of the evening. Peter let himself bullied against the brick wall of an apartment building. But he shifted the angle, now underneath the rustled metal skeleton of a fire escape.

First rule of thieving, Pete. Always have an escape route.   
First rule of robbing someone- don’t let your mark have an escape route.

“Evening Gentlemen,” Peter said, cool and biting. He closed the umbrella with a snap, leaning it against the wall. Right now he’s supposed to be Lexi white; mercurian businessman on a short vacation with his long-term girlfriend. He casts that persona aside, like a sweater on a warm day. Facing down coyotes wasn't the time to be wearing a sheep’s suit. “What can I help you with?”

“Nice earrings.” The larger man loomed, his sour breath washing over Peter’s face. Stale whiskey seemed to seep from the Brute’s very pours. 

“How charming of you to notice.” Peter brushed the tip of his finger against the dangling sapphires. “Although I doubt you’re interested in the jeweller.”

“Shut up,” The smaller of the two growls. Peter knows that Juno would have already gifted him a charming nickname. Weasel, perhaps- given his stretched out features and beady eyes. Yes, Weasel would do nicely. “Give us your wallet. And any jewellery you got.”

“Pity. And here I was hoping we could have an intelligent conversation.” Peter sneered, resting a hand on his hip. Just within reach of one of his knives. “I think it’s time for you to run along.”

The brute pulled out a plasma knife. Its handle was scratched and wrapped messily with duct tape. It sputtered when he turned it on, the blade taking far too long to form. When it finally did, the edge glowed a lethal white. One that looked far hotter than factory standard. “We weren’t asking.”

“Neither was he.”

The Brute froze, the business end of Juno’s blaster making its home against the his skull. His Detective flicked off the safety, and blaster charged with an angry whine. “Drop it.”

The plasma knife clattered to the ground. The blade disappeared the second it hit the ground. Probably a loose connection, Peter mused, weighing the pros and cons of pocketing it. 

“Kick it away. Slowly now. No sudden movements.”

Peter palms a knife of his own. The Brute does as he’s told. His useless weapon skittered away into the darkness. But Weasel seems quite content to slither up on Juno’s blindside. His attention focused greedily on Juno's blaster. Clearly he thought that Juno was the only threat. How quaint.

Peter throws the knife. And bless him, Juno doesn’t even flinch as it sails past his ear. Weasel lets out a strangled cry as the blade buries itself in his shoulder. He goes down to his knees, hard.

“Anton!” His partner cries out. Heedless of the blaster aimed at his head, he lurches forward, stumbling to the other man’s side. Weasel moans, clutching at his blood soaked arm. A little melodramatic in Peter’s opinion. It wasn't as if the wound was lethal 

“Are we done?” Peter pulled out another knife, twirling it between his fingers. He has their full attention now, nervous eyes tracking the gleaming metal. “Because I think it’s time for all the good little muggers to go home for the night. Hmmm?”

“You bastards,” Weasel gasps. He touches the metal in his shoulder gingerly, wincing as more blood trickles down his arm. 

At Peter’s elbow, the colour has all but abandoned Juno’s face, his features pinched with disgust. Nonetheless, the hand on his blaster remains steady. 

“Leave!“ he barked. “Before I forget this thing has a stun setting.”

It’s an empty threat at best. Peter knows that these idiots have nothing to fear from his dear detective. But it feels like a promise, and that’s all that mattered. the would-be muggers seemed to have no doubt as to Juno’s convictions. They ran without a second glance. 

And that was that. Peter slipped the knife back into the delicate sheath strapped to his wrist. “Oh, well-done Love.” He said, smoothing the silky material of his sleeve to make sure it didn’t show. “You gave them quite the fright, I think.”

Juno turned to him, bright with adrenaline and outrage. Practically glowing with it, his goddess of protectors. “Serves them right.” He scoffs. “Better it was us than some other couple, hey?”

“Indeed,” Peter said, barely able to look away. Even after all this time, moral outrage remained Juno’s best look. “ However, I do believe it’s time for us to leave. Before…”

The alley lit up in a flashing parade of blue and red. The screeching wail of a siren followed at its heels. 

“Before that?” Juno asked.

“Before that.”

The two muggers were back, hands raised above their heads. Or hand in Weasel's case. They walked backward, not giving Juno and Peter a second glance. Their entire attention was focused on the droid that hovered at face level, pushing them back. 

“Potential crime reported.” The AI’s voice boomed despite the droid's compact size. “Under Bill C-582, All parties will drop their weapons and report for a mandatory memory scan.”

Juno scowled, looking down at the blaster in his hand. For a moment Peter feared he’d argue with the droid. But he seemed to think better of it, placing the blaster on the ground. No sudden movements, everything easily trackable.

The brute was less deferential. “Fuck you!”

He’s weaponless, broken plasma knife lost somewhere in the dim. But that doesn’t stop him as he picks up a good-sized rock instead.

“Finn!” Weasel cries, too late as the rock sails through the air. “Don’t!”

Unfortunately, the brute’s aim was meticulous. The rock struck the droid dead center. The force of it should have been enough to shatter the camera lens at least. But the stone bounced off the metal plating. As effective as a pebble. 

“Threat detected.” The droid responded. The undamaged camera lens shuttered, folding in on itself as a beam of pale blue light shoots out. It surrounded the man, his arms locking to his side as he was lifted from the ground. High enough that the toes of his boots scuffed against the ground. “Citizen immobilized. scan to begin.”

The Brute’s eyes darted wildly. His jaw was screwed shut, as frozen as the rest of him. But Peter could tell from the clenched lines of his neck that he was trying to shout. Cursing or pleading, it was impossible to tell. 

The light turned yellow, focusing until it was nothing more than a circle on his forehead. It began to pulse. “Commencing scan in 3.2.1”

The mugger went limp against his invisible restraints. His eyes were open, but completely blank. Awake perhaps, but definitely not aware. Peter shivered at the sight. 

“Aggressor in an attempted armed robbery.” The drone stated. “Previous convictions on record. Citizen to be detained for processing.”

The light shifted back to blue before the camera lens slid back into place. The Brute dropped back to the ground. He remained on his feet, knees locked and arms soldier stiff at his sides. He didn’t even twitch as the droid turned to his partner, repeating the process.

Juno shifted, leaning closer to hiss in Peter’s ear. “Is it going to scan all of us?”

His words were tight and clipped. Peter grabbed his hand without a second thought. Juno’s palm was slick with sweat, finger’s trembling. Peter squeezed them reassuringly. 

“Yes, they will.” He said, keeping a wary eye on the droid as it finished processing their attackers. There was no point in denying the truth after all.

Juno’s lip narrowed into a bloodless line. Peter could understand his worries. They darted around his own mind, bright fireworks of anxiety. Who’s to say that a droid capable of mind-reading couldn’t pick up on information that was… less than convenient. It would be truly embarrassing if this was how their little crime family got caught. Buddy would never forgive them, that much was certain.

And that was the least objectionable thing the droid could pick up.

“It's equitable treatment after all.” Peter continued. He wasn’t sure if the droid’s speaker could pick up their conversation from this distance. He let his voice carry, carefully parroting Triton’s official travel guide. “The droid can only scan the last 15 minutes of memory, after all. And no active thought. Nor is it capable of determining intention.”

Juno’s jaw unclenched. But the tight line of his shoulders was slower to relax. That couldn't be helping the poor thing’s headache. But 15 minutes was an iron-clad alibi for two tourists acting in self-defense. Nothing more. There was no way the droid could pick up on anything untoward. 

“Yeah, well. I'm cold and it's wet. “ Juno complained, shifting gears for the droid's benefit. It was heavy-handed perhaps, but it certainly helped carry weight to their backstory. "Can’t they hurry up? I want to be home.”

“Patience, my Love” Peter raised Juno’s hand, kissing his knuckles. “Soon. I promise.”

The droid hovered over to them, its long spidery limbs curled beneath its hexagonal body. “Names?”

“Lexington White,” Peter said, taking the lead. It was the name he had used all evening, printed in gleaming silver on the side of his credit stick. He looked directly at the droid. There was a small red light next to the camera. It flashed as Peter spoke. “And my girlfriend, Briar Argent. We were walking home from dinner when we were attacked.”

Keep it vague, Peter. Minimal details. What were their liabilities? The weapons he and Juno carried were well within regulation for this sector. Even if the amount they had on them was questionable. He hadn’t referred to Juno by name since before dinner. And Juno was more than used to his shifting parade of aliases by now. There were no memories in the last 15 minutes that could incriminate them. They should be fine.

The droid beeped. And the red light flashed to green. “No criminal records on file,” It said. Peter internalized a sigh of relief. “Briar Argent. Please step forward for scanning.”

Juno scowled, his arms wrapping around his chest.

“No need to fret.” Peter soothed, urging him forward. “It’ll know we only acted in self-defense.”

“It better.” Juno snapped, testy as always in a crisis. But he dutifully stepped forward. 

Peter watched him go; pushing his own anxiety down and away. He focused on the shape of Lexington White. Embracing the energy of someone with nothing to fear from the Neptunian authorities. Lexi had no reason to be worried. The droids were only there to help, after all.

“Now what?” Juno asked as the same yellow light from before washed over his face. It cast his features into sickly relief. “Do I have to strike a pose?”

“Please remain still.” The light narrowed, focused on the space between Juno’s eyes. “Scan commencing in 3. 2. 1”

Just like before, Juno’s eyes grew vacant as the droid entered his mind. His arms, coiled so tightly around his middle, fell limp to his sides. But this time Peter realized he couldn’t bring himself to watch. It was nothing like seeing it happen to a stranger. Suddenly Peter was back in that forsaken tomb, unable to do anything more than sit there as Juno searched his mind. Blood making rivers down the side of his beautiful face.

It was far more of an effort than it should have been for Peter to keep his hands unclenched, his stance casual. They’d be back on the Carte Blanche soon enough. They’d disappear before anyone on this moon was the wiser. 

“Please remain still.” The droid repeated. But the automated voice sounded harsher, taking on the stern edge of command. Peter’s stomach sank as ice brushed down his spine. He turned to Juno, half expecting the ever petulant detective to refuse the scan after all.

If only they were so lucky

Juno grunted, his hand fluttering up to his forehead. He no longer held the vacant expression of someone being scanned. His brow furrowed, pinched as if in pain.

“Briar?” Peter asked, hesitant “what's wrong?”

“It's fine.” Juno snapped. Then he flinched, face twisting as his eye squeezed shut. Whatever agony he was obviously experiencing too much for even Juno steel to brush aside. “My Head. It's killing me.”

“What?!” Peter’s scrambling thoughts skipped a step. A needle hitting a scratch on the record. Had he missed something? An overlooked injury, something in their dinner perhaps? Juno had been fine all night. Beyond his headache earlier. But that had been minor. And certainly, nothing compared to now.

Because this wasn’t a headache. Something far more catastrophic was wrong. And Peter realized, with sinking dread, he knew the cause. And it wasn’t dinner.

“I can feel it.” Juno gritted out. “It’s crawling, digging. Oh god.” 

The yellow light began to pulse brighter. Juno’s back arched. A harsh whine whistled its way through clenched teeth. He grabbed at his hair, digging his nails so tightly into his scalp that Peter was worried he’d draw blood. 

Then he staggered, swaying violently. Before Peter even realized what had happened, he had jumped forward, hand outstretched. To do what, Peter didn’t know. Hold him up? Drag him away? But Peter had to do something. He couldn’t just stand here. Not again.

The light flashed red- shining directly into Peter’s eyes. He stopped dead in his tracks, momentarily blinded. “Interference with a memory scan is a criminal offence. “ The droid declared, monotone in the wake of the chaos it had created. “Perpetrators will be charged with obstruction of justice.” 

Peter looked from the Droid to Juno, and back again. He raised his hands, stepping away slowly. It had to be the droid. Peter was certain now. But how? The memory scan was non-invasive, no more harmful than an ultrasound. 

The details weren’t important. file it away- for future consideration.

“Can’t you see there’s something wrong?” It was all Peter could do to maintain the thinly painted veneer of calm he was trying to project. He had already seen how the droid handled aggression. It would do them no good to end up frozen like their friends from earlier. All that was left was to try and negotiate with a machine. “The scan. It's hurting him, you have to stop it.”

“All witness testimony must be recovered in the form of memory.” The drone stated; the default response to someone protesting a scan, no doubt. It was completely oblivious to Juno, who was clutching at his skull like it was the only thing holding it together. There was obviously no room in it's programming for this type of scenario. Because why would there be a fail-safe. The memory droids were harmless after all. 

Of all the imbecilic design flaws. 

“Shut it off!” Peter shouted, caution thrown to the wind. “You’re killing him!”

“Final warning.” The droid boomed. Peter didn’t know who it was talking to, him or Juno. It didn’t matter. This ended now. “Remain still, or you will be detained.”

Juno’s blaster was on the ground by Peter’s feet. Close enough that he could nudge it with his shoe. But how to grab it without aggravating the droid? 

It was going to be tight. Peter wasn’t as good of a shot as Juno was. And he was far enough away from his target that it mattered. He only had one shot, and it had to be perfect. 

Juno dropped to his knees with a strangled cry, forehead falling to the earth as he curled in on himself. 

The droid flashed red. Peter dove. He had the blaster up and sited before it could even register the movement.

It exploded in a shower of sparks and metal. It crashed to the ground, legs twitching pitifully as its speakers whined with reverb. Peter shot it again. It finally went still, ear-splitting noise silenced. He fired again. 

Peter ran to Juno, collapsing by his side. Juno was still on his knees but was no longer curled in on himself. He stared blankly forward, never even registering Peter’s presence.

“Juno?” Peter murmured. He pressed his hands to the side of Juno’s face, urging the detective to look at him. “Are you alright?”

Juno moaned, barely more than a whisper of sound. He slumped against Peter’s side as if his very bones were no longer capable of supporting him. There was no filing away his panic anymore. It nipped at his quivering heart, forcing its way up to his throat. Shutting down the droid wasn’t enough. 

Blood trickled from Juno’s nose, dripping across his lip and down his chin. Everything slid into place, the final piece of a grotesque puzzle. One that left Peter hollow with the implications of his own stupidity. Memory Scan. Not so different from mind reading, was it? Had Juno’s brain ever truly recovered from his last exposure to telepathy?

“Juno!” Peter gave him a soft shake. “Say something. Please!”

Peter shook him again, harder this time. Juno’s head rolled against Peter’s shoulder, his breath hitching with a force that jolted his entire body. And then he was gone, eye sliding shut. He was limp as a rag doll against Peter’s side. The warm breath brushing the side of Peters’s neck the only sign that….

No. Now wasn’t the time. /file it away/. 

In the distance, a siren wailed. And then another, and another. Until they were coming from all sides and getting louder. 

Peter cursed. Whoever had designed these droids was a genius. One that Peter sorely wanted to kill. Bring down one droid, and it triggered a warning to all the others in the area. Like a dying wasp calling its hive.

Which Peter knew. It wasn’t exactly a secret. It was printed in the guide book for heaven’s sake! Shooting the thing down was a rookie mistake. But that didn’t matter now. They needed to leave. And they needed to do it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you needed to skip that portion of the chapter, I completely understand Here’s a quick summary.
> 
> All you need to know is: Juno reacted badly to the memory scan, causing his headache to escalate to intolerable levels. The Police Droid does not understand what is happening and doesn’t respond to Juno’s distress. Peter try’s to talk it down, and when that fails he shoots it with his blaster.
> 
> Take care of your selves.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry, this took so long. 
> 
> Once upon a time, I had this entire story written and ready to go. “I just need to edit it,” I naively told myself. “A weekly posting schedule should be easy.”
> 
> Or… I could decide at the very last minute to completely rewrite the last chapter. Despite being the slowest writer on the planet. And of course, the bloody chapter decides to be over 5000 words. Oh well, sometimes you just have to follow wherever the writing spirit takes you.

“Juno!” Peter grabbed the detective’s shoulders, shaking him roughly. “Come on. I need you to wake up now.”

But Juno didn’t so much as twitch. His head rolled limply on his neck as Peter shook him again, before falling to rest against Peter’s chest. Peter realized it was a lost cause. Juno was still completely out cold. He's on his own.

Peter bit his lip, trying to think as the rain soaked through his clothes and into his very bones. The shriek of sirens was getting closer. The sound layered in a way that spoke of numbers that Peter didn’t want to think about. All of them drawn to the still sparking remains of their fallen comrade. 

He couldn’t risk waiting for Juno to come around. Peter heaved them both upright. “There we go, Darling. “ he cajoled, letting the detective’s weight fall forward, dropping over his left shoulder. “Up we get. “

It's a trial to stand. He wrapped his arm around the back of Juno’s legs, holding him steady. Peter grunted, struggling with the effort of even making it onto his feet. Juno was a deadweight, limp fingers brushing against the small of Peter’s back.

He makes it a single, staggering step before his knees give out. They both crashed down to the pavement. Peter scrambled to hold onto his burden. If Juno fell now, Peter knew he’d never be able to lift him again. 

A flash of light caught Peter’s eye. He whipped his head around, certain he’d seen the first glimmer of police lights reflected in the building's window. They didn’t have time for this. He took a breath. In through the nose, and out through the mouth. 

Make a plan, he told himself. Find the escape route.

There was a large building at the end of the alley. And old store of some kind from the looks of it. Long since gone out of business. The windows were boarded up, the door buried under layers of graffiti.

Peter gritted his teeth and struggled back onto his feet. He didn’t need to make it far. Just to the door. And that was a completely manageable distance away. Or at least that was what Peter told himself. His legs shook with the strain- muscles screaming their displeasure at the abuse. But he pushed the thoughts into the furthest corner of his mind. Focusing instead on just putting one foot in front of the other.

The door was locked from the outside. A heavy length of chain wrapped around the handles. Peter gave the door an experimental tug, not expecting much of anything to happen. But the chain unraveled at his touch, slithering to the ground. It landed with a clunk onto the remains of a cut padlock. 

Peter counted his blessings, as few as they may be. Juno wasn’t a tall person, by anyone's standard. But he was sturdily built, all thick muscle and soft edges. It was a frame that Peter loved with every fibre of his being. But all the love in the world didn’t change the fact Peter doubted he’d even be able to pick even that simple of a lock with Juno slung so precariously over his shoulder.

Peter slipped through the door, slipping into the dark space. He’s barely able to make it more than a few steps before he’s forced to lay his precious cargo on the ground.

It was dark, and it was musty. Thick canvas sheets covered shelves and counters alike. Debris crunched unpleasantly beneath Peter’s shoes. A flashlight lay abandoned on the ground, half-buried amongst a pile of empty beer cans and snubbed out cigarettes. Probably belonging to whoever had cut the lock. But given the thick layer of dust covering every available surface, Peter wasn’t too concerned about visitors. 

They were safe. At least for now. 

Peter slipped off his jacket, fine Venusian wool, and folded it up, slipping it under Juno’s head as a pillow. Juno didn’t so much as blink as he was shifted around. Didn’t move. Didn’t stir. 

Peter sighed. “You delicate thing.” He murmured, brushing a stray curl away from Juno’s face to kiss his forehead. “I’ll get us out of here, I promise. “

They needed a plan. And Peter knows what he needs to do, even as he hesitates. A lifetime of near militant self-sufficiency at war with common sense. He pulls out his comms, punching in the now familiar number before he had the chance to talk himself out of it. 

His fingers were shaking so hard, it took two attempts. 

“Hello Darling.” Despite the device's tiny speakers, Buddy’s voice filled the space. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. I thought we made that desire abundantly clear. 

“Juno and I are in Attina.” Peter cuts her off, even as he checks the locks on the door. A selection of middle of the road digital locks, and a heavy-duty analogue bolt. He locks them all. “We need help.”

“What?” The testing drawl was gone, leaving only Captain Aurinko in its place. “Slow down. What’s going on?”

“Someone tried to mug us. “ Peter said, trying to summarize as briefly as he could manage. “We handled it. But the Memory Surveillance Droids arrived.”

“You’ve been arrested?” Buddy asked. “ I would like to think you’re capable of breaking out of a Triton holding cell. Otherwise, we may need to renegotiate the terms of your employment.”

“If only,” Peter said, dragging a hand through his hair. “Juno was scanned. I didn’t think, I thought it would be fine. But then he collapsed, and I can’t wake him up.”

“Collapsed.” There was a rustling over the line before Vespa’s rasping voice took over. “Why would Steel collapse?. The scans are harmless, no side effects.”

“I can’t explain right now.”

“You’re going to need to do better than that,” Vespa growled. “How do we know you’re not lying through your teeth. Cause this sounds like bullshit to me.”

“On the very merit that I’m asking for your assistance. “ Peter snapped, his temper fraying faster than he could hold onto it. Peter Ransom would have regretted the sharp tone. But Peter Nureyev couldn’t bring himself to care. “Juno doesn’t need a diagnosis. We need a way out of here before the droids find us.”

“Yeah? And we’re supposed to just buy that?” Vespa challenged. “Sounds like a set up to me.”

“Vespa, enough.” Buddy’s voice was muffled, but firm.

There’s a string of expletives. Peter holds the comms away from his ear. He’s seen the scar on Juno’s stomach; long and ragged. He knows that only a few months ago, this woman did her best to kill Juno herself. The circumstances were different. Those months might as well have been a lifetime ago for Vespa. But it's an effort for Peter to remember that she was an ally. Even as she triggered every instinct Peter had to run.

“How’s Steel now?”

“Unconscious. But he seems to be stable.” Peter says, trying to call down. On the other end of the call, he can tell Vespa is trying to do the same. “I shot down the droid. It seemed to help, but he hasn’t woken up.”

“You shot it?” Buddy took back her comm. “Darling, you do realize the entire Triton Police department is probably on your tail.”

“Hence the need for a rescue.”

“Yes, I quite imagine you do.”

From behind them, Juno let out a soft moan. Peter whirled around at the sound. He nearly dropped his comms at the sight of Juno’s brow furrowing, rocking on the makeshift pillow.

“Pete?” Buddy prompted.

“Hold on. “ Peter said. “Juno’s waking up.”

He didn’t wait for Buddy’s response, dropping his comms to the ground without even ending the call. He’s at Juno’s side in a heartbeat, pulling him into his lap. “Juno? You with me?”

Juno’s eye opened a sliver. He groaned, a low broken sound. 

“Shh Darling, you’re alright,” Nureyev crooned, lifting him up a little higher. “I’ve got you. Can you look at me?”

Juno blinked blearily up at him. He barely moved his head on Peter’s shoulder, as if it was too heavy to hold up on his own. But he was awake. And that was more than Peter could have hoped for. 

“There you are. “ Peter forced himself to smile, brushing his hand across Juno’s hair. “How are you feeling?”

Juno blinked again; long and slow. He didn’t seem to hear Peter’s question. Or at least he didn’t seem to react. But his lips were moving, muttering something under his breath. Even this close, Peter could barely hear him. He frowned, leaning closer. 

The words were slurred, and barely more than a ghost against Peter’s cheek. But the moment Peter realized what Juno was saying, he immediately wished he hadn’t. 

Red Square.  
Ace of Spades.  
Blue Diamond.

Cards. Juno was describing cards. One after the other, with a moment’s pause between. A steady pattern as if drawn from a deck. And not just any deck. Peter’s hands spasmed, remembering the electricity that had raced through them. For a moment he’s no longer in Attina, but buried under the martian desert in what had nearly been their tomb. Peter was barely able to resist the urge to curl his hands against his chest.

He realizes then, that even though Juno was awake, he was a long way from conscious. Looking closer, Peter sees what should have been obvious. Juno’s pupils were blown, barely a hint of brown left. And Peter doubted that Juno even knows what’s going on. Like the night Juno had searched his memories. So out of it afterward, that Peter had been forced to leave him behind.

“Ransom, what’s going on?!”

It’s a stretch to grab his comms with Juno in his arms. But Peter manages it, even as he forces Ransom’s mask back into place. 

“Ransom. Thank goodness, I was starting to worry. How’s Juno?”

“Awake. But not aware. “ Peter paused. He doesn’t know how much Juno had told the others about how he lost his eye. The story was almost beyond comprehension, Peter wouldn’t have been surprised if Juno had kept certain details to himself. 

But even among family, it seemed, assistance came at a price. Peter had to make a choice. He could only hope it was one that Juno could forgive. “It’s the psychic field from the droids. Whatever matrix they use for scanning, it’s causing him great distress.”

“Psychic fields? What the hell are you talking about.” Vespa snapped. “Steel isn’t psychic. People aren’t psychic.” 

“The Ancient Martians were.” Peter barks out a laugh, and even he can hear the hysterics chasing at the edges. “Juno ran afoul with some martian tech back when we worked together. The Lassonionic Capsule. It allowed him to read minds, but at great cost.”

“Oh that’s a good one” Vespa declared. “You realize that isn’t possible, right?”

Peter stopped listening. Vespa’s sharp words fading into static as panic dug in its claws just a little deeper. They had known that the pill had changed how Juno’s brain was wired. Miasma had spared few details after all. 

And Vespa was right. Humans weren’t psychic; were never meant to be telepathic. And yet, for a while at least, Juno had been able to read minds as easily as one could pick up a book. Something had to give. Something that had apparently left deeper scars than just his poor eye. 

The brain was a delicate thing after all. Who was to say if that damage had ever truly healed? And dragging Juno to this city? Peter might as well have been rubbing salt into it. The droid’s psychic field was still active. And it was getting stronger, now that the droids were starting to swarm. 

“Ransom, breathe!”

It isn’t until he hears Buddy’s voice that Peter realizes he had begun to hyperventilate. Looking down he winced, loosening the death grip he had on Juno’s shoulders. 

But even as he does, the store lights up like a circus tent. Red and blue lights dance through the cracks in the boarded-up windows as the droids begin to circle the building. They’re out of time. 

“I’ll explain everything you need to know when we’re back on the Carte Blanche.” Peter had to raise his voice to be heard over the siren’s, now only a concrete wall away. “But right now, I need an escape route.”

There’s a series of clicks as the digital locks are all bypassed. The heavy analogue bolt was their only protection now. And even that was questionable as the droids began to slam their bodies against the door.

“Already done.” Buddy’s words were steadying, even as the door began to groan under the assault. “I’ve messaged Jet. He isn’t far from your location. You just need to sit tight until then.”

“Understood Captain.”

“Stay safe, Darling. Try and find a place to hide if you can.”

Buddy disconnected the call with a click. /Try and find a place to hide./ Peter dug through his pockets as he mulled the words over. He had dressed for a quiet dinner out, not a heist. He had a handful of throwing knives. He wasn’t slipping so much in his old age to leave home unarmed. They were gorgeous weapons, perfectly weighted and wickedly sharp. And all but useless against the droids titanium-plated bodies. 

Peter pulled out Juno’s blaster, the only other weapon he had. It’s a sleek little thing. A gift from Buddy when she and Juno had first started shooting together. He flipped it over in his hands. powerful without a doubt, more than capable of taking down a droid. But it was designed more for ease of concealment than cartridge capacity. 8 shots, if Peter remembered correctly.

Juno hadn’t fired it tonight. Peter thought back, He had shot it 3 times. Assuming Juno had charged it before they left, Peter had 5 shots. And that was a long way from a guarantee. 

The building was completely surrounded. Siren’s pressing in like a cage. Peter could only guess at their numbers. It sounded like 20. And he had no doubt that more we’re on the way. Not even Duke Rose would bet on those odds.

Hiding would be the best plan. And yet… Peter’s hand curled around the handle of Juno’s blaster, looking down at the lady lying in his lap. Juno wouldn’t survive another scan. It wasn’t a question, it was an inevitability. Almost as certain as the fact that if the droids found them here, then they would be scanned for sure. Shooting down a Memory Surveillance Droid was a capital offence after all. 

Peter wrapped his arms around Juno’s waist and dragged him behind a stack of crates. He pressed a hand to the centre of Juno’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. Beautiful in the fact it was still beating and would continue to do so. 

“I won’t leave you alone this time,” Peter promised. “But I need you to stay quiet for me, alright?”

Juno didn’t respond. His gaze was still hopelessly vacant, sliding over Peter’s shoulder. Peter doubted he had heard a single word. He’d be surprised if Juno even knew where he was right now. 

In those blood racing moments of fight or flight, Peter’s first instinct had always been to disappear. There was a loose ceiling tile just to his left. Peter had noticed it the second he had entered the room. Easily accessible from the shelves just beneath it. Peter could be gone before the droids ever made it past the door. Find Jet, bring him here. It was the most efficient plan by far.

But Peter immediately folded that thought away. Not for future consideration, but for immediate disposal.

His finger’s clenched, twisting in the material of Juno’s sweater. Just how much had Juno understood the last time Peter had stood over him like this, promising not to disappear? Did Juno even remember those final words before Peter had left him in that cell? It had taken Peter far too long to break back into Miasma’s complex. Had Juno woken up alone, thinking he’d been abandoned to his fate?

Was that why Juno had left? Peter had been too afraid to ask.

The droids slammed against the door. One after another, never faltering. The bolt was holding, but the metal door was starting to warp at the hinges. Those who couldn’t reach the door swarmed over the boarded-up windows. Clambering limbs ripped off the nailed wood, and clawed at the glass. It was beginning to crack, spiderwebs spreading across the surface.

Peter pressed a kiss to Juno’s forehead, lingering and all too brief. He grabbed the nearest canvas sheet, and draped it over Juno’s limp form, hiding him from the world. 

Running wasn’t an option. He would just have to trust that Jet could find them in time. But Peter knew he couldn’t just sit and hide either, idly trusting that everything would be okay. Where would that leave them, when the droids made it inside? Peter’s hand tightened around the grip of Juno’s blaster. Someone had to buy for time until Jet arrived. 

And if Jet didn’t get here in time? Well. Peter flicked the safety of the blaster, feeling the weapon hum as it charged. Then he would cause enough chaos that the droids would forget that Juno existed at all. 

The window gave first. The glass shattering and raining to the ground. Peter pivoted, shooting the droid that was trying to crawl its way through the broken frame. It let out a garbled whine as it was struck, before shutting down, blocking the hole. 

4 shots left. 

/Keep them busy/. Peter just had to hold them off until Jet got here. Buddy sounded like she had a plan. All Peter needed to do was keep Juno safe until then. Everything else was a waste of his attention. Fold it away.

The hinges let out a loud groan as the droids continue to slam against it. The door on that side was beginning to twist, peeling away from the hinges like a tin can. It wasn’t a large gap. Too small for a person to crawl through. That didn’t stop the droids. 

They clawed at the gap, metal screeching against metal as they widened it with their spidery limbs. One managed to squeeze its way through. Peter shot it before it could get any further, catching it clean through the middle. It fell to the ground in a pile of sparks

3 shots. 

Another followed right at its heels, widening the hole in their barricade even further. Peter pulled the trigger. But he missed, the shot going wide. It glanced off the droid’s angular body, severing a few legs. But it wasn’t enough to bring the thing down.

2 shots. 

He fired again. But instead of the kick of the blaster, all Peter felt was the hollow click of the trigger. The LED strip along the weapon’s muzzle flickered and faded as the blaster died. 

Peter let out a curse, dropping the gun into his pocket and grabbing his knives. But even that brief moment of inattention cost him. The hole in the door was ripped open impossibly wide, the droids came through like a swarm. There were so many more of them than Peter had expected. 

They surrounded him, an impenetrable circle several droids thick. Peter tightened his grip on his knife. Knowing it would be about as useful as Juno’s dead blaster. He resisted the urge to look back at the pile of canvas that hid the light of his life. 

If Jet didn’t get here soon, it wouldn’t matter if Peter looked at Juno or not. The droids would drag the information straight from Peter’s mind.

Jet would be here soon. He had to be.

One droid hovered higher than the rest. “Lexington White.” It said, red and blue lights burning spots into Peter’s eyes. “Drop the weapon and step forward for scanning.”

“This is a misunderstanding.” Peter tried to soothe. Not his finest lie. A droid could not be conned. And even the dimmest mark couldn’t be honeyed with a weapon pointed at them. Peter made no effort to lower his knife. “I demand to speak with an actual police officer.”

“You may speak to the officer assigned to your case at the station.” The droid said. The circle pressed in closer. “Persons of interest must be scanned, before arriving at the station.”

Sweat rolled down Peter’s face, dripping into the collar of his shirt. “I want to speak to an officer.”

“Lower your weapon and step forward for scanning.”

“I’m a Mercurian citizen,” Peter said, glancing at the door. Where was Jet? “This is against my rights!”

One by one the droid’s cameras shuttered and began to glow an icy blue. The same colour that had so thoroughly immobilized the muggers from before. Peter stared them down.

Buddy had promised that Jet was close. That rescue was coming. And Peter knew they’d stop at nothing to make sure Juno got home safe. But it didn’t seem like that help would come fast enough.

This was why the Nameless thief worked alone. 

“This is your final warning.” The droid commanded. “Drop the…. Drop… cease and desist…”

“Pardon me?” Peter asked as the Ai’s voice began to glitch and waiver, the word skipping over themselves in a randomized jumble. 

“Cease and… lower your…. Scan in process.”

The droids started to talk all at once. They drifted away from their tight circle, crashing into each other and into the walls. The pale blue light flashed, changing to yellow, to white, to pink in a dizzying strobe. Then there was a pop. And the droids froze. All at once, their lenses turned the same solid shade of blue, filled with endless rows of coded error messages. 

“Ransom!” Peter jumped at the sound of his alias. A heavy fist knocked on the door as the unmistakable sound of Jet’s voice filled the air. “Are you here?”

It’s a struggle to remove the analog bolt from the twisted remains of the door. The second it released, Peter jumped to the side as the door crashed to the ground. The lock was the only thing holding it upright. 

And there he was, Jet Sikuliaq, the man of the hour. His towering form silhouetted by the glow of the Ruby 7’s headlights at his back. “Good.” He said with a nod to Peter as he entered the store, “It appears we are not too late.”

“We?” Peter asks, slipping away his knife. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Yes. We.” Jet said as Vespa stepped out from his shadow. But it’s not until Peter sees Rita that he truly begins to relax. “Buddy believed that some medical expertise may be required. Along with Rita’s more specific skill set. It is why I was so late.”

“It was super easy! Well, kind of easy.” Rita’s face was buried in her comms, the light of the screen reflecting off her glasses. Her fingers were a flurry of movement as she typed, brow furrowed with concentration. “What were they even thinking, using a hive matrix? The Colrea System is far more secure. Everyone knows that! Cause all it takes is one little tiny wormy, and- Wham!”

She punctuated her declaration with a particularly vicious jab at her keyboard. The still hovering droids, which only moments ago had felt like an impassable threat, began to smoke and spark. They crashed to the ground. Peter barely had time to get out of the way as one nearly shattered his foot. 

“Ransom.” Vespa snapped in greeting, a heavy medical kit clutched at her side. Stepping over the pile of what now amounted to scrap metal, she surveyed the room. “Where the hell is Steel?”

“Ah. Yes.” Peter struggled to recover the persona the crew would be expecting from him. Level headed and professional in a crisis. Not someone hanging on the precipice of a breakdown by their fingernails. “He’s just over here, perfectly safe.”

He pulled away from the thick piece of canvas that still covered Juno. The detective’s eye was closed, his face clammy and ashen. But his chest rose steadily. Peter held onto that mask just a little tighter as it threatened to crack. “Not an ideal hiding spot, I’ll admit. But it was the best I could come up with, given the scenario.”

Vespa crouched at Juno’s side, finger’s pressed to the side of his neck. “And what? You just decided to hide in the middle of the room?” She asked, giving him the side-eye. “Do I need to check you out for a concussion?”

Peter’s cheeks grew hot. “Someone needed to draw the droid’s attention until you got here.” He pointed out.

But Vespa just rolled her eyes. “You and Steel are a matched set of Dumbasses.” She growled, letting go of Juno to open her kit. “I hope you know that.”

Peter didn’t have long to ponder what that meant. At the sound of his name, Juno stirred. His eye blinked open, focusing slowly on Peter’s face. “Wha?”

“Juno!” The back of peter’s eyes began to burn, as he collapsed at Juno’s side. He grabbed Juno’s shoulders, as the detective tried to sit up, propping him on Peter’s chest. “Slowly dearest. Slowly.” 

“What the hell.” Juno groaned, dragging a hand down his face, grimacing as it came into contact with his still tacky chin. For once he actually listened to Peter’s advice, slumping against the other man’s side. “Anyone get the number of the car that hit me?”

Peter choked around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, letting out a sound that could have been a laugh or a sob. He wrapped his arms around Juno, resting his cheek against the top of Juno’s head. Just letting himself feel the warmth of Juno’s breathing, conscious body. 

“Oh don’t let me get in your way, “ Vespa sneered at them. She shoved at Peter’s shoulder to bully his arm out of her way. But she didn’t make him move as she flicked on a penlight. Which she proceeded to shine right in Juno’s face.

“Hey!” Juno swatted her hand away. “Warn a Lady.”

“Get over it.” Vespa flicked the light back and forth, tracking the movement of Juno’s eye. Her ever-present scowl deepened. “You’re a mess Steel.”

“Yeah well, what else is new.” Juno countered. “Would you stop that? My head freaking hurts.”

“Which is why I’m doing it. “ Vespa said, rocking back onto her heels. “You seem okay, now that the droids are offline. Not that I understand how that works. But you’ve earned a night in the Med-bay for sure.”

“Droids?” Juno asked confusion etched into every line of his exhausted face. “What are you talking about? What happened?”

“Why would I know that?” Vespa said. “Your boyfriend hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with the details.”

“Ransom?” Juno asked, turning his head to look at him.

Peter tried to respond. To say the perfect thing to diffuse the situation. He can picture what he wants to say, but the words refuse to come out. 

“Honey?” Juno asked again, voice softer now. He twists in Peter’s hold, pressing his hand up to his partner’s cheek. “You… okay in there?”

Peter can feel the fact he’s shaking. But as the calloused edge of Juno’s thumb brushes away a tear, the fact he’s crying comes as a surprise. He ducked his head into the crook of Juno’s neck, grateful for the chance to hide his face. The emotional fallout, for once, too heavy to fold away. 

“Later.” He finally manages to say without his voice cracking. ‘I’ll explain everything on the ship.”

“yes.” Jet says, peering out one of the smashed windows. “I believe it may be imperative that we leave Attina as quickly as possible.”

“Oh definitely.” Rita chimed in, practically vibrating in place. “Because, Ummm. The virus I sent killed all those droids real quick. But it’s also suuuuuuuuper trackable? I can get rid of any traces once we get back to the ship, but I need my actual computer to do that. “

“Right.” Juno made a truly valiant effort to stand. But he collapsed back against Peter before he even made it onto his knees. “Probably going to need some help with that. 

“Of course.” Jet said, making his way over. Juno cried out in alarm as he was picked up, clutching desperately at Jet’s thick leather jacket. “Not what I meant!”

“My apologies. “ Jet said, far from repentant as he lifted Juno far easier than Peter had managed. “However, this is by far the most expedient means to get you to the Ruby 7.”

“Yeah, whatever big guy,” Juno groused “Just don’t drop me.”

“That is… unlikely to happen.”

“Unlikely?!?”

The Ruby 7 waited just outside. As if she had heard their conversation, her engines turned over with an enthusiastic whistle. Jet would need help getting Juno into the Car, Peter decided, wiping his face with the corner of his sleeve. He was painfully aware of the mascara running down his cheeks, and of how blotchy his skin must have looked. He lifted his chin, daring anyone to question his appearance. Knowing, deep down that nobody would.

As he passed, however, Juno reached out, grabbing at Peter’s sleeve. He wrapped his fingers around Peter’s wrist, a loose bracelet that Peter could dislodge with ease. 

Peter forgot how to breathe.

“We good?” His goddess, ashen-faced and obviously still hurting, asked. And Peter could scarcely believe they made it through this. For a moment, he had feared the worst. That this dark, dingy store would mark the end of Juno steel. And as much as Peter was pained to admit it, if it wasn’t for Buddy’s plan, it would have been.

He curled their fingers together. “Yes, my love.” He said, lifting Juno’s knuckles to his lips. “We’re going to be fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! if you liked it, please smash that kudos button and leave a comment. trust me, you'll make my day. I may not respond, but I read every single one. Love all of you, take care of yourselves


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